Will 3D Printers Conquer the Consumer Market?

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The 3D printer seems to have gone mainstream, at least for the
do-it-yourself movement that populates the Maker Faire. But it
remains to be seen if some "killer app" will make these printers
a must-have item for consumers.

This year's Maker Faire devoted an entire tent to perhaps a dozen
brands of 3D printer, many of them for sale at the faire or for
later delivery. While all share the same basic functionality —
they build a shape in plastic, layer by layer — they each present
slight design variations.

Their proponents are enthusiastic about the printers’ potential.
"It's like a new industrial revolution," said Siert Wijnia, a
founder of Netherlands-based Ultimaker. "[3D printers] are where
the microcomputer was 30 years ago."

To an extent that's true: in the early 1980s, it was just
starting to become commonplace to have a computer in the
home, and prices for top-end Apple or IBM-type machines were
in the $1,000-$1,500 range, or about $2,200-$3,000 in current
dollars. The 3D printers are, if anything, cheaper. Ultimaker
sells its version for about $1,600. The software is open-source,
and it works with most computer-aided design packages, including
some available free on the Web.

Early computers, by contrast, weren't open source. So there are
two questions: what is the "killer app" that gets everyone
printing stuff out, and how do the various entrants compete in a
market with few barriers to entry? Makerbot, the grand old man of
the 3D-printer universe, has moved to proprietary software and
design — perhaps an acknowledgement that it's hard to keep
innovating to stay ahead of the competition with no intellectual
property. [Why a DIY Pioneer Dislikes 3D Printing]

In the meantime, the designs keep coming. The Rostock Max, for
instance, gets away from the box shape typical of most 3D
printers. Built by PartDaddy, an engineering company that makes
machine parts in Goshen, Ind., it uses a three-armed system to
move the printer head along both the horizontal and vertical
axes.

The software is also different from that of other 3D printers,
says Steve Wygant, CEO of PartDaddy. He is seeking $10,000 by
Nov. 24 for the Rostock Max under his SeeMeCNC brand name on the
crowd-funding website Indigogo. A fully assembled Rostock should
sell for about $1,500, while a kit to build your own goes for
about $850. Unlike most other 3D printers, the Rostock can be
re-purposed as a "pick and place" circuit-board assembler,
because the arms are not restricted to horizontal movement.

Wygant's background is in engineering, but it's notable how many
people getting into the business come from design backgrounds.
The open-source technology has become simple enough that
designing and building a 3D printer isn't just the province of
hard-core engineers anymore. Vancouver-based Justin Sy, for one,
studied design at Simon Fraser University in British Columbia.
Tinkerine, which Sy founded with friend Andy Yang, has already
produced a couple of models of its 3D printer, the Ditto. The
acrylic version showcases an aesthetic sense as much as solid
engineering.

John Cabrer, of Tjiko, noted that the patents on most 3D printer
designs have run out, which is why so many people can build them.
He came up with a kit that doesn't require screws, so it can be
slotted together like some IKEA furniture. "I have been doing a
lot of improvements in my career," he said, referring to his
background in software engineering. He added that removing the
need for tools improves
3D printers by simplifying them.

So with all this enthusiasm, what are the limits? For one thing,
few 3D printers print in more than one color at a time. Some can
be equipped with multiple "extruders" (the part that puts the
plastic down). But generally, they only come with one, so that if
you want multicolored parts, they have to be assembled outside
the printer. The machines also suffer from some limits on
resolution, or the thickness of the layers of plastic. Generally,
that is about 200 microns, or 0.2 millimeters, which is not a
lot, but enough to give the pieces a rough "feel" that must be
sanded down.

Then, there is the choice of plastic. Most 3D-printer makers have
chosen to “go green," using a biodegradable compound called PLA,
or polylactic acid. Others use a material called ABS, famous as
the material used in Lego bricks. But don't expect your bricks to
look, feel or work the same. The Lego company notoriously makes
theirs with very tight tolerances, far smaller than a homebrew
machine can achieve. The printers don’t work in metal, either,
which is still the province of industrial equipment.

That said, these machines can do a lot. One trick is making ball
bearings, which the machines can build as single pieces. The
printer creates the ring around the bearings (with a thin piece
of connecting plastic that can be snapped off). The bearings
aren't aircraft-quality, but for a lot of applications, they are
likely good enough.

But while the thought of making one's own toys or craft projects
is exciting to some, it isn't clear that a mass market for these
printers will emerge the same way that it did for desktop
publishing.

Cabrer said most of his sales, for example, have been to
universities and schools. It's also worth noting that desktop
publishing's biggest impact may have come in saving existing
print publications a lot of money, because the technology
eliminated the paste-up room and made it possible for smaller
operations to work with big printing houses. 3D
printing is certainly a big money-saver for any company doing
prototyping, but the justification for its use in the home isn't
quite clear yet.

That doesn't dampen some customers’ enthusiasm, though. At the
Makerbot booth, where the latest models were being showcased,
several people approached and asked about buying one, and at
least one sought assurance that no new releases would appear
before his was shipped. And at Ultimaker's stand, a common
question was, "Can we take one home?"